


Stain

by Kenjiandco



Series: Cumulative Injury Cycle [2]
Category: Attack on Titan, Shingeki no Kyojin, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Slice of Life, and by angst I mean Jean angsting, and the rest of the 104th being idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenjiandco/pseuds/Kenjiandco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the 104th get into the entire Scouting Legion's pants (literally), Connie reveals unexpected abilities, Armin gets his hair braided, extracurricular applications of 3-D gear are discussed, Reiner is everyone's big brother and Jean and Marco find out they aren't as sneaky as they thought they were.</p><p>Spoilers for the manga abound once again</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stain

CUMULATIVE INJURY CYCLE (medical term):

A condition arising from the repetition of activities which cause mild injuries, usually overlooked as insignificant.  The Cumulative Injury Cycle causes repeating trauma, re-opening old wounds before they can heal.  

  
If left unchecked, the Cumulative Injury Cycle will eventually become completely debilitating.

 

***

It was strange to think they’d been deliriously excited for maneuver testing only a few weeks ago.  Travelling to the headquarters of the entire military, performing for the commanders themselves...after months on end of the same drills in the same training camp, it sounded almost glamorous.   

Then they’d arrived to learn that they’d been split into squads, and while one squad traveled testing, the other got to deal with a literal _mountain_ of laundry. 

Jean heaved a sigh and slung another dripping sheet up over the line above his head, tugging at the edges until they lay flat.  The washing lines were strung the entire length of the compound courtyard, bedding and uniforms hanging limply in the oppressive summer air.  The glitz and glamor of military life...it occurred to him to wonder, not for the first time, how much more of this awaited if he ever made it to the interior cities.  What did the Military Police actually _do...?_  

“So?  What about you, Jean?” 

“Hm?”  Jean jolted out of his daze and ducked through the lines of laundry between him and the rest of the squad, spread out around the courtyard.

“If you had to pick one of the girls who would it be?”  Connie repeated, picking up another bundle of damp linen and tossing it at him.  “And before you ask we already took Mikasa out of the running.” 

“Why?”  Jean fielded the sheets flying at his head and started untangling.  Monotonous though the chore was, at least the cool water dripping out of the cloth felt good. 

“‘Cause on the off chance you survive asking the question, Eren still rips your head off in the morning.” 

“You got that right,” muttered a sheet a few feet down the line.  Jean rolled his eyes. 

“You guys are aware that the girls are mostly right there, yeah?” 

“Don’t think we’re gonna bail you out, I already picked Annie,” Sasha replied cooly.   

“Yeah, speaking of that, if she said yes we could sell _tickets--”_ the rest of Eren’s sentence was interrupted by a heavy ball of wet canvas slapping him in the face. 

“Keep dreaming, Yeager.” 

“H-hi Annie, wow you really don’t make much noise when you walk--”   

Connie looked past Eren, still struggling to disentangle the jacket wrapped around his head, and moaned.  “Prepare for battle gentlemen, we have incoming again.   _Fuck me..._ ”  The others joined him in groaning as the rest of their squad rounded the corner, lugging another round of laundry bins. 

“We come bearing gifts,” Reiner announced as the bins were unceremoniously deposited.  “What do you want first, the towels, the uniforms, or the Artlet?” 

“The Artle--oh what the _hell_ Armin?”  

“It is too goddamned hot,” Armin replied, flopping bonelessly out of the third laundry bin.  “I wish to never move again.” 

“He’s lighter than wet uniforms anyway,” Bertholdt said with a shrug.   

“You’re sweating like crazy.” Sasha knelt down next to Armin.  “We need to get all this stuff off your neck.”  She ran her fingers through his thick hair, pulling it back into an experimental ponytail.  “Hey, Mina, you got an extra hairtie?” 

“Good luck,” Armin moaned.  “I’ve tried it before, nothing stays.”

 

It was ten minutes later.  The 104th were impressed. 

“When did _you_ learn to braid hair?”  Reiner asked, looking like he’d just witnessed a miracle. 

“Long about little sister number two,” Connie said, fingers moving in a blur.  “Out of _four._ Let me _tell you_ about braiding hair.”  He snapped the borrowed hairtie into place.  “How’s that?” 

“That actually feels _so much_ better.”  Armin grinned and tugged on the French braids running through his hair.  “How do I look?” 

“...Almost exactly like Krista.  Holy _shit_ that is disturbing.”   

Armin batted his eyelashes.  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”   

“ _Wait_ I know what this needs.”  Reiner ran across the courtyard to the base of the wall, where clumps of blue and white violets bloomed in profusion throughout the summer.  “Here ya go Armin, they match your eyes.” 

“Ok that,” Connie said solemnly, “is the cutest fucking thing I have ever seen.”  Armin laughed and scrambled to his feet.  “I feel so pretty!  Where’s Eren, this’ll terrify him.” 

“He went to get us more pins, give it a minute.” 

Armin pulled a few violets from his hair and clamped their long stems between his teeth.  He flattened his back to the wall and peered around the corner with one eye, waiting.  Reiner shook his head.  “All those in favor of getting Armin drunk next off-day?” 

“Aye.” 

“Aye.” 

“Aye.” 

“There’s Eren, act normal!” 

Armin waited until the other boy was moments away from turning the corner and launched himself into his path.  Eren recoiled, dropping the can of clothespins he was carrying.

“Huh? Krista? _What the fuck--”_  

 _“Dance with me Eren!”_ Armin seized his friend’s hands and forcibly spun him around, lisping around the flower in his teeth. 

“What in the shit is wrong with you.” 

“It’s the latest fashion, don’t you like it?” 

“I’m...uh...kinda surprised _you_ do.” 

“Yeah, emasculation isn’t really something you worry about when you look like me.” 

“Emascu- _what?”_  

“ _Daaaaaance with me Connie!”_  

The rest of the squad laughed as Armin tackled him, and Jean rolled his eyes.  “Normal.  Us.  Right,” he grumbled, yanking on the nearest line and spinning the pulleys until he had some clear space.  “Are you idiots actually going to _do_ something today?”   

Still giggling, his squad mates got back to something resembling work.  Even Eren was laughing, eyes lit up, skin splitting over the second set of teeth when he smiled. Jean sighed heavily and reached for another bin.  This was as close to normal as _they’d_ ever come, when he thought about it. Normal people didn’t have half healed blade cuts on their arms and criss-cross scars on their backs and shoulders and knees that hurt all the time.  Normal people kept their heads down and farmed or fished or built houses in whatever space remained in the ever-more crowded cities. They didn’t enlist in the military.   

Sure, the lure of the military police was tempting, but...Jean looked around at his squad mates spread out across the sunny courtyard.   _Not even one in twenty,_ he thought.   _There’s more than two hundred of us, and only ten have the chance to move to the interior.  And for the rest, it’s repair walls and polish cannons the rest of your life, or..._ he looked down at the uniform jacket in his hands, the threadbare Legion sigil and the faded, rusty stains around the shoulder of a sleeve that was clearly newer than the rest of the jacket.   _Or you go to the legions and it’s thirty percent, every year, but hey at least there’s more food for the rest of us._  

 _What’s so wrong about wanting to be fucking_ safe, _anyway?_ He tossed the jacket up over the line and pinned it roughly down, hands shaking.   _I just want to wake up and not hear Titans pounding on the fucking walls..._ let his squad-mates laugh if he jumped every time a cart passed nearby, they didn’t need to know that he was remembering being eight years old, waking up before dawn to the windows rattling in their frames, learning that the wall had fallen and the concussions shaking through the house were the footsteps of Titans, just a few meters of wood and stone away.   _Let ‘em lie to themselves and look down on me for being honest, I don’t fucking care what they think of me..._  

They were all laughing about something else now, Connie yelling at Sasha and Reiner leaning against the wall, doubled up with laughter, and that same honest part of his brain amended _you_ wish _you didn’t care what they think of you..._

“--mean by _none of the above,_ we all flattered you!”  Jean tuned back in when the girls started giggling; giggling always meant danger. 

“Who cares about _you_ guys, we know about Commander Smith now,” Sasha was saying, ducking the clothespins Connie threw at her head.  “It’s no contest.” 

“Isn’t he, like, _thirty?”_  

“I think he’s closer to forty, but _who cares?”_ Mina gazed wistfully towards the buildings of central command.  “He’s so handsome!” 

Armin took a stack of jackets from her with a shrug.  “If I had to pick a man...” 

“Yeah, ok, fair enough.” 

“Same.” 

“Same.” 

“Actually...” Sasha seemed to be considering.  “If the senior officers are on the table I think I’d chose Captain Levi.”   

Everyone, including Jean, stopped dead to stare at her.  “What!” she protested, cheeks turning pink.  “You’ve seen what he can do with 3-D gear!  Just... _think_ about it...” 

The trainees grumbled; most of them were still nursing inferiority complexes following the 3-D maneuver demonstration the Scouting Legion officers had staged to kick off the week of testing.  They had all been made to run an elaborate obstacle course, starting from the wall and looping the full circumference of the compound, and weigh their gas canisters at the end to gauge their efficiency.  Once every trainee had completed the course, the tiny Legion captain had picked up the emptiest of the canisters, with barely three percent of its propellant remaining, used the last gasps of gas to launch himself up to half the height of the Wall, and blazed through the entire obstacle course in one long, spinning, balletic freefall, landing in front of the speechless trainees with fuel to spare.   

And when you thought about him in _that_ context...Jean blushed along with the rest of the group.  

“Wait...” Connie said suddenly.  “Are we equating 3-D maneuverability with...y’know... _that?_ ‘Cause then the best out of any of _us_ would have to be the best...with...” 

There was a long, contemplative silence as the thought sunk in, and then they all grinned at Bertholdt.   

“Don’t look at me like that...” he glanced around, looking hunted.  “Jean beat me in the last two tests...he even beat _Mikasa_ in fuel efficiency.” 

“Yeah, but he’s taken.” Mina said, and the girls started giggling again.  Even Annie smirked.   

“ _I’m what!”_ Jean jumped like he’d been stung by a hornet.   

“You didn’t wonder why no-one picked Marco either?” 

“I...I wasn’t paying attention to your stupid conversation!” Jean stuttered, flushing.   _How did they find out, it’s only been a few...months...almost a year._  

“You blush every time he comes within five meters of you,” Annie said.  She looked up at him through her bangs and quirked an eyebrow.  “Yeah, like that.” 

“It’s not like we’re complaining,” Connie remarked.  “It stopped you yelling shit in the middle of the night.” 

“Plus, _apparently,_ we mere mortals can’t compete with Commander Handsome--” Reiner began. 

“Which commander would that be? I’d like to meet him sometime.” 

In years to come, after everything had gone to hell, Jean would occasionally look back on this moment and thank whatever gods existed that he’d been in a position to watch the various shades of mortal terror that flickered across Reiner’s face as the Commander of the Scouting Legion rounded the corner of the building, Captain Levi on his heels. 

“Oh, don’t bother,” Irvin Smith waved a hand dismissively as the trainees scrambled to free their hands and salute.  Eren reached out surreptitiously and brushed the flowers out of Armin’s hair, even though it was still held back by the braids and bloody bandages. “You’re working harder than I am.”  His eyes flicked to Armin.  “Theoretically, anyway.  We’re just passing through-- oh c’mon, Levi, you can look for stains later.”  He put a hand on the captain’s shoulder and tugged him away from the washing lines, earning a furious glare.  The commander paused, with his hand on the gate out of the courtyard.  “I do hope your squad will adopt a more formal demeanor when it’s your turn for testing next week, of course.   _Though_ that’s not to say I’m not flattered.”  And then he looked Reiner dead in the eyes and winked. 

The squad managed to hold it in as Irvin dragged Levi away, but as soon as the gate clicked shut and they heard Levi yell “ _Commander fucking Handsome?!”_ the dam broke.  Reiner flopped down onto the ground and buried his face in his hands as the rest of the trainees fell over laughing.   

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Reiner mumbled into his palms.  “Don’t pretend it couldn’t have been any one of you morons…” but he was laughing with the rest of them as he got back to his feet.

Jean focused on folding jackets, throat tight with humiliation and misery. How long had their secret been out, they’d been _so_ careful...he wondered what had been said behind their backs by now.  Jean couldn’t care less what they said about him, but _Marco..._ Marco didn’t deserve that kind of shit and it would be Jean’s fault... 

Reiner kicked the bin next to his foot.  “This one’s full -- no seriously _shut up, Connie --_ hey Jean, you’re sane, help me out with this thing.”  Jean grabbed the other handle (even dry, three dozen canvas-and-leather jackets were _heavy_ ) grateful for any excuse to get out of there. 

“Hey.”  They turned the corner, away from the rest of the group, and Reiner suddenly pulled up short. He set down his end of the heavy tub, forcing Jean to follow suit, and touched Jean’s arm.  “I don’t know what it was like where you’re from, but...look, you knownone of _us_ care, right?  You don’t have to keep this some huge secret.” 

 _Don’t blush don’t blush don’t blush fuck dammit._ Jean looked away, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.  “I know...I mean, it’s not that exactly, it just feels--I don’t know...I just can’t believe you all _knew!_ ”

“I can’t believe you thought we _didn’t!”_ Reiner looked closer at Jean’s face and tilted his head to one side, smile fading.  “Hey…did something happen?”   

Jean’s shoulders slumped. “N-not really, not to _us,_ but...you’ve heard how those interior idiots talk...”

“Not around me they don’t,” Reiner snarled, and Jean grinned in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, I heard about that.  Did all four of ‘em really drop out?”   

“There were _five,_ ” Reiner said, with no little pride in his voice.  “But Ymir gets partial credit... _man_ I hope that guy never planned on having kids.”   

Jean’s laugh was drowned out by a rush of hoofbeats from the north gate.  They both looked up as the pack of horses streamed in down the road. “Speak of the devil,” Reiner said as the returning squad reined in, horses snorting and nickering as they recognized their stables.  “I figured, if the officers were back they wouldn’t be too far behind.  But, _truly,_ Jean… if someone says anything about you and him, you’ll tell me, right?  I don’t give a _fuck_ who it is, tell me.” 

“I’ll...yeah.” 

“I _mean it._ Listen.” Reiner sighed, scraping a hand through his hair. “Marco Bodt is, bar none, the sweetest person I’ve ever known, and he deserves someone who makes him happy.  You both do.”  He jerked his head towards the second squad.  “So go get ‘im.”

Jean stared at him, speechless, as he bent to pick up the heavy tub and groaned, armor plates over the nape of his neck shifting as he lifted it.  “ _Uff._ Before I change my mind about carrying this thing by myself.” 

“You’re sure?  I--” Jean stared at his feet, cheeks flushing yet again.  “Thanks, Reiner.” 

“ _Scram,_ Jean.” 

Jean shook his head and scrambled out towards the main road, scanning the faces amongst the pack of tired horses.  His stomach did the customary queasy flip as he spotted Marco, talking animatedly with Hannah as their horses drank, and Jean just barely prevented himself from grinning like an idiot.

Marco never bothered to hide his emotions, though, and his smile as he noticed Jean and waved lit his face from the inside cracks in the bone standing out under his skin and tied Jean’s stomach in knots all over again.  “Jean! Aren’t you supposed to be doing chores until you drop?” 

“We’ve got some downtime,” Jean lied.  “How was agility testing?” 

Marco grinned and rubbed his neck.  “I can’t tell anymore! After watching the Legion, I feel like a baby who hasn’t learned to walk yet.” 

“He’s being modest, he smoked us all,” Hannah cut in, punching him on the shoulder.  “I kept getting all excited that I’d made it to a checkpoint and then I look up and there’s Marco, just standing there waiting for everyone else to catch up, with the instructors yelling at him to stop worrying about the rest of us and get a move on.  And then he’d beat everyone but Mikasa to the next checkpoint _anyway._ “ 

“You’re holding back _again?”_ Jean groaned.  “What _is_ it with you and your pathological need to wreck your own test scores?” 

“I dunno…the way these tests get scored is _weird._ I mean, what’s the point of setting us all against each other if we’re supposed to be a team, once we graduate.”  Marco shrugged.  “I don’t want to make it to the Military Police because I was the best at moving fast and leaving my friends behind.”

 Their eyes met, and Jean smiled, a lump in his throat.   _And that’s why you’re you…idiot.  That’s why I--_  

“Hey, Marco,” Hannah said suddenly, brightly.  “I need to drop my horse off with the vet, she’s been favoring her leg again…why don’t you let me rub yours down?  I don’t have anything else to do.” 

“Huh? No, you don’t have to do that—“ 

“It’s okay, she’s a sweetheart,” Hannah reached over and tugged the reins out of Marco’s hands.  “Go ahead and get out of here, I can take care of her."

 _Damn, everyone really_ does _know,_ Jean thought.  Somehow, that prospect didn’t seem as horrifying as it had an hour ago…he caught Marco’s eye again and raised his eyebrows.  Marco shrugged, looking embarrassed. 

“Sure…I owe you one, Hannah.” 

They left her grinning behind them and wandered past the stables, and on sheer impulse Jean grabbed Marco’s arm and jerked him back around the corner of the building, into the shadow of a rocky ridge jutting out from the cliff that formed the northern border of the training camp.  Marco blinked at him, and then his surprise melted into a soft smile as Jean threw his arms around his neck.

“This isn’t like you,” Marco said, trying to keep the laugh out of his voice.  “Everything ok?” 

“I missed you,” Jean mumbled into his neck, half-laughing himself.  “How pathetic is that, not even a week and I _missed_ you.” 

“Aww.” Marco leaned into him companionably, running his fingers through Jean’s hair.  Jean smiled and nuzzled into his shoulder, an edge of broken bone rasped against his cheek, tingly warmth overwhelming the stress of the day.  “Don’t say that...I missed you too.”  He knocked his knuckles against the side of Jean’s head.  “I don’t sleep very well without someone kicking me in the ribs every couple hours.” 

Jean recognized the opening, Marco giving him an opportunity to be a smartass, pull back from an emotional border he steadfastly avoided, but after the day he’d had Jean simply no longer had the energy to pretend he didn’t care. 

“I’m just glad you’re back...I think I start going crazy when you’re not around.  As soon as I can’t see you I start convincing myself I just imagined you.” 

“Okay, if the best your imagination can come up with is me, that _is_ pretty pathetic.”  Marco leaned back against the rocky wall of the bluff, pulling Jean with him and settling his arms around his waist. “You need to hold out for a higher class of fantasy.” 

Jean didn’t bother to answer, content for the moment just to be held, playing idly with the short, sweat-stiff hair at the base of Marco’s neck.

 _Ten spots,_ he thought again, _a little less than one chance in twenty…_ ”Hey, Marco…we’re gonna make it, right?  I mean, everyone knows the top spot’s Mikasa’s, and then it’s Reiner and Annie and maybe Bertholdt, but there’s still enough left over for us…” 

“What are you worried about?  You’ll be fine.”  Marco smiled his sunbeam of a smile, bright enough to burn, Jean gritted his teeth, seeing that smile turned his chest into an empty, aching pit though he didn’t know why... 

“ _Both_ of us!”  It came out harsher than he intended, his fingers tightened unconsciously on Marco’s too-cold face and he leaned forward til their foreheads touched.  “We’re gonna make it _together_ or not at all, right, Marco?  We’re gonna be safe and we’re gonna be _together--_ ”

_(Jean)_

He broke off, feeling stupid as soon as the words were out.  He reached down to  squeeze Marco’s hand in his, fingers slipping on blood over shattered bones, and waited for Marco to make some joke, like he always did, he knew Jean needed to laugh at himself, knew his sincerity needed to be masked and he was always ready to ease the strain of speaking from the heart, but this time he just smiled, ( _Jean)_ light from the low rays of the sun catching in his eyes.   

Marco leaned forward, Jean closed his eyes but never felt their lips meet, only ringing burning pain spreading from his mouth across his face, he tried to call Marco’s name ( _Jean!)_ panic catching in his throat but the breath he drew in hit with a stench that gagged him like a solid thing, filthy white cloth choking his mouth.  He tried to reach out but his body wouldn’t respond, nothing but a cold dead weight, the hand in his was _gone_ trying to clutch at empty air with his useless fingers and he jolted awake a second before Connie hit him again, gasping in air that still tasted faintly like old blood.   

Jean looked around, still fighting his way out of the dream, heart pounding wildly against his ribs.   _The forest north of Maria.  Right._ Connie knelt beside him on the wide tree branch they’d stationed themselves on. Sasha stood with her back to them, the bow that never left her sight these days over one shoulder, staring out into the murk between the giant trees.

“You were screaming,” Connie said, his eyes wide.  “We couldn’t get you to wake up...”

Jean shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the trunk.  “Flashback?” Connie asked softly, and he nodded.   _Not the kind you’re thinking of, though._  

Sasha flopped down unannounced on his other side and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder.  Jean sighed shakily and hugged her, grateful for the attempt at comfort.  

“We were gonna wake you up anyway, in a minute,” Connie said, standing with a groan.  “The black flares went up a few minutes ago...the scouts sighted the steam from a transformation, right on the wall.  We’re just waiting for the final signal--”  as he spoke, a new column of smoke climbed the sky to the south, cutting through the fog of the old signals.  Yellow...today, of all days, that signal meant something very different. 

“The armored titan.  It’s the armored titan.”  A second signal shot up beside the first, this one bright green.   _Titan engaged.  They’re fighting the armored titan. Reiner..._

“Come on.” Jean pulled Sasha to her feet, squeezing her hand for a second.  “Get going, I’m right behind you.” 

Sasha nodded and drew her blades, giving her gear the second-nature check that preceded any jump, and looked back at Jean and hesitated, fingers on her triggers.  

“He’d be proud of you, you know,” she blurted, cheeks flushing, and then she disappeared in a blast of hot propellant before he had a chance to process her words.

Connie rolled his eyes, tightening his own harness.  “Proud isn’t the right word though...he wouldn’t be _proud,_ not really.”  He kept his eyes on the column of yellow smoke coming apart in the wind as he spoke.  “He wouldn’t even be _surprised._ I mean...” he glanced over his shoulder then, rubbing the back of his neck.  “This is all he ever saw when he looked at you.”

 _I guess it_ was _the kind of flashback you were thinking of,_ Jean thought as Connie flew off into the trees.  The last of the yellow signal faded out and dispersed on the rising wind, faint against the oncoming stormclouds. _Reiner...don’t do anything too stupid until we get there._  

He looked up at the sky, into the deep gold sunset the same color as the last time Marco kissed him, settled his blades into his hands and let his fingers brush over the corner of his mouth, where the last stain of sensation lingered. 

 _Together,_ he thought... _or not at all…_  

Jean pressed the hilt of Marco’s blade to his lips, and jumped into the growing darkness.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it: from pure unadulterated silly to stealth prequel to RIP in slightly more than 4,000 words.  
> Part 3 of the Cumulative Injury Cycle coming soon! (For a given value of soon)
> 
> In parting, here is a thing I can absolutely guarantee happened multiple times in this particular headcanon.
> 
> "DAAAAANCE WITH ME LEVI!"
> 
> "If that flower gets one millimeter closer to my hair so help me god I will shove a gas tank up your ass and poke a hole in the end."
> 
> (It never fit in the story, but Irvin is on the other side of that gate, probably with his fist jammed in his mouth and dying of laughter, THE ENTIRE TIME. Levi is just dying. And if anyone writes this point of view you will have ALL MY LOVE FOREVER)


End file.
